


Because Romance is Hard

by FactoryKat



Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Being Anders, Awkward Flirting, Drunk Hawke (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hawke Being Hawke (Dragon Age), M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), New Relationship, Secret Relationship, Wicked Grace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: At least, for Wyatt Hawke and Anders it is. No one said romance was easy, but no one said it was going to be this difficult either.





	1. Chapter 1

“No cheating this time Rivaini.” Varric chided, humor lacing his voice as he prepped the cards for another round of Wicked Grace, a favored pastime of the group and easily the most competitive. The cards fluttered all too gracefully in the dwarf’s stout hands as he demonstrated a practiced deftness while dealing a set to his gathered companions. 

Isabela was many things, and a cheater at cards was certainly one of them. “I make no promises Varric. You know that.” She waved at Edwina who interpreted the request for another round of drinks for the table.

A derisive scoff carried across the table from dwarf and seafarer where Fenris sat. “Let her cheat, Varric. It’s obvious she would never win otherwise.” With the challenge dropped, he sipped quietly from the opaque bottle in hand. Everyone knew he preferred the cloying taste of wine to that of the sour ale served here in the Hanged Man and didn’t dare make a fuss over him bringing his own spirits to the pub.

“Oooh, I _love_ when you get competitive.” Isabela lowered her eyes at the elf, effectively marking him as prey. 

“Maybe you should slow down, Hawke,” came the dwarf’s reluctant warning, just as he gulped down another pint.

Inebriation warmed his face and surely brought a flush to his ruddy cheeks. No matter how genuine his friend’s concern, Wyatt Hawke was in no mind to heed his words. “Nonsense! I’m feeling just fi-” the word was lost the moment green and gold glimmered in his peripheral vision drawing his eyes towards the door. “Fi-hiii Anders!” He overcorrected, sloppily. 

Anders entered the suite almost unnoticed but Varric never seemed to let anything slip past him. “About time blondie. I was starting to think you hate fun!”  

There was a snort and a roll of his eyes before any words left his lips. “And miss yet another opportunity to lose the last of my coin to Isabela? Or perhaps allow myself to be further indebted to Fenris? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Flattery won’t make me go easy on you, sweet thing, but do go on.”

Hawke clumsily attempted to stand up as Anders approached the table but was met with some difficulty “Here, I’ll grab you- _”_ he muttered curses amidst his struggle. “Maker’s balls did they make this table for Dwarves?” 

There was a protest from Varric but it went unacknowledged as he awkwardly lifted his long legs over the bench. “Let me get you-” Wyatt’s struggles resulted in him colliding with Fenris, jostling the table and sending the bottle clear over the edge where it clattered noisily on the floor. Wine leaked out, rapidly forming a scarlet puddle. Perhaps the only consolation was seeing the bottle remain in tact, sparing Norah an even bigger mess.

A huff followed by pensive silence was the telltale sign that Fenris was annoyed. Along with low rumblings in Tevene that fell on deaf ears amidst Isabela’s delighted cackles and Anders’ concerned inquiry. “Hawke? Are you _drunk_?” 

It was fortunate for Wyatt that Anders didn’t pull away when he grabbed hold trying to steady himself. “Maybe. Yes. Just a little. Why?”

“Then maybe you should take it easy. Get some water?”

A card danced between stout fingers as Varric shrugged. “That’s what I told him. He needs to slow down, but maybe he’ll listen to you, Blondie.” Once Anders was sitting, he replaced the stray suit by cutting the deck and giving it another thorough shuffle.

“And why would he listen to _me_? You’re his friend.” His face was a mask of neutrality as if trying to appear indifferent.

Isabela lewdly gestured at Hawke, as if it was necessary to illustrate her point. “Yes but _he_ clearly wants to jump your-”

“You’re all my friends!” Saved by coincidentally timed interruption. “And I told Varric I’m fine. Really. I swear it.” 

“Well,” much to his relief, she didn’t continue her original statement. “At least he’s a happy drunk. He is awfully precious when he gets like this. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Isabela leaned too far into Anders’ personal space before he grew intolerant of her behavior and forced her back. “Would you not do that? And to be honest, no. I wouldn’t agree. Sorry Hawke.”

“Harsh,” Varric whistled. 

Wyatt simply shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t fault him for his honesty.” Then again, he _could_. Disappointment crossed his face briefly before Varric declared the start of the game. Everyone gathered their cards and soon idle chatter turned into challenges and a round of betting.

  
  
☼ A Few Hours Later ☼

 

“Well, would you look at that. A winning hand.” Anders laid down his cards as a cheeky smile spread across his fair and freckled face. He leaned backwards in the chair, beaming proudly but Hawke stared at him with eyes narrowed dubiously.

“Varric did you set me up?” Turning his attention to the dwarf sitting across the table, Wyatt assumed this was either a very savvy cheat, coaching on the sly or some other conspiracy. Rather, that was what his liquor addled-mind thought.

Varric was thoroughly amused. Watching the unusual role reversal brought hearty laughter to the table. This was the fourth hand that Anders had won, by some Maker-granted miracle or sheer dumb luck. “Sorry Hawke. I had nothing to do with it. Looks like Blondie’s been practicing.” 

“I can’t imagine he’s had  _ time _ to practice, with how often the two of them are probably-”   
  
There was a collective groan that rolled through the group and Anders sunk low in his seat, his face an irritable mask. “Isabela why do you insist on painting this picture? Do you not have  _ anyone _ else to bother?”

“What? Oh please. You know we’re all thinking it.”

Varric pushed the deck towards her and shook his head with disgust plain on his face. “ _ I'm _ not, Rivaini. I don’t want to think about it and all your efforts can't make me."

Giggles erupted from Merrill's side of the table finally, after much time spent quietly minding her own. Her delicate face was only slightly pink with a gentle flush. “I think it’s amusing. What’s so wrong about spending time with your friend. Are you and Hawke not friends? Did I miss something?”

Hawke buried his reddening face in the cards while Anders mercifully chimed in, ignoring the awkward conversation and obvious attempts to pin them as a couple. He re-directed it back to the topic at hand. “I could just be having a lucky night. Why does cheating have to be involved?” He continued to defend his innocence, effectively clearing the others of any guilt in the process. 

Of course Hawke was skeptical. In all of his time knowing these people, their time spent together when they weren’t off finding trouble elsewhere in the city, he had never seen Anders win at a game of cards. The man was just hopeless. Wyatt reached for his companion’s cards, still laying face down on the table in front of him. 

“Let me see that-” but Anders was quick to react and stole them away before Hawke could get his hands on them. 

“No. Then  _ you’d  _ be cheating.” 

Frustrated, Hawke was not about to give in to this sham so easily. “If you’re not cheating then you have nothing to hide!” he scrambled to reach the cards that the other mage kept just out of his reach. 

“Hawke no-” Anders protested, purely in vain as Wyatt doubled his efforts to get at them.

Merrill was enthralled by the sight of two grown men fighting over cards. “Oh dear. I didn’t realize this game was so serious!” 

They continued back and forth for a few more minutes, with Anders at some point trying to fend him off with his staff in one hand, cards in the other. 

Varric shrugged his shoulders and idly drew another card from the top of the deck, paying the two of them little mind. “Apparently it is, Daisy. Apparently it is.”

“Alright, fine.” came Hawke’s sudden retort before switching tactics. Taken by surprise, Anders nearly catapulted forward when Wyatt grabbed him by the shoulder. To no one’s shock, his efforts to play keep-away were utterly sabotaged by an unexpected kiss. A peck, more like. He had planted one right on the healer’s cheek somewhere in the middle of the struggle. The distraction was a success, and Hawke plucked the cards from his companion’s hands with relative ease. He pulled away, but not without a wolfish grin. 

Anders didn’t need to say much judging by the way he held himself carefully in check, fighting a smile - but he did comment on Wyatt’s use of trickery. “Underhanded. Now who’s the cheat?”

“Alright you two. Are you gonna play another hand or do we need to give you the room?” 

Hawke, still feeling a smug sense of accomplishment, finally looked at the cards he had spirited away and was genuinely surprised. Anders, who had been telling the truth, rolled his eyes.

“ _ Maker _ , you have  _ got _ to be kidding me. Fine. One more. His luck is going to have to run out some time.”

It was going to be a long night, but at least they were spending it having fun for a change.

 

☼ Later ☼

Hours passed and the sun dipped below the horizon, giving way to the moon as it crept higher into the sky bathing the suite in pale light. They said their goodnights and the party disbanded with Merrill out the door and Varric retreating to his personal space, Fenris had spent a few minutes longer speaking to Isabela before even he left, which meant Hawke and Anders were the last ones to leave.

Anders lingered just for a moment and allowed him to slip out first, not wanting to draw attention and further lead Isabela on a chase to fix them up. Once outside, Hawke sucked in a deep, lung-full of Lowtown’s stale air and started towards the steps leading up into hightown. 

Catching just a flash of blonde hair on the approach was all the motivation Wyatt needed. As the mage drew near he made a dash and grab, clutching Anders by the arm and spiriting him away down a narrow alley. The cramped corridor left little room for personal space. It meant he could feel the healer’s breath warm on his face, hear his quickening heartbeat and sense the wavering static of fade energy lingering beneath the surface. Just as well, his own pulse started to race as his hands moved of their own accord and gingerly collected Anders’ face in their palms. Wyatt leaned in to brush lips against lips. To his delight, Anders reciprocated as he kissed back with less caution and more urgency. He made a noise of protest when Hawke hoisted him up against the wall opposite himself but conceded to more kissing before breaking contact.   
  
“Do you think they suspect anything?” Anders’ voice was quiet and weary while his honey eyes were fretful with unspoken fear.

Wyatt’s brows creased apprehensively. “I’m not sure. Honestly, Isabela seems to have convinced herself of us already. Though I don’t really know what the problem is with just telling them-”

“Soon.” Anders cut him off abruptly, mouth forming a hard line before twisting into a sordid frown. “I just want you to myself. For a while. I’m still-” Exhaling, he turned his head away almost irritably. “I still fear that I’m going to wake up and realize none of this is real. That I’m still stuck in that blighted tower, or-” 

“Or? Or what?” Wyatt tried to encourage him on, looking to glean any insight he could on what made his partner so hesitant to reveal the nature of their new relationship to their companions.

Collecting himself, Anders still wore a bleak expression as he squeezed past and out of the alley. “Nothing. Nevermind. I should go, get to the clinic and finish up some work. Goodnight Hawke.”

Thoroughly confused, Wyatt scrambled out onto the streets after Anders. A pang of guilt ate at him seeing only the healer’s retreating back and he slumped against the wall in defeat. Had he said something wrong? Had he offended Anders somehow? 

Unfortunately, these were not questions that would be answered tonight. It was far too late and Wyatt knew his mother would be awake and worrying herself sick if he delayed any longer. He had to put effort into moving, into walking away - towards Hightown - not turning around and marching into the sewers to insist on an explanation.

No one said romance was easy, but no one said it was going to be this difficult either.


	2. What happens in camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping out at the Wounded Coast goes spectacularly well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft romance warning

Rain pelted the ground and their shared tent, serving as some cover for the groans of unsated  _ need  _ that he successfully pulled from a pale throat, one decorated in soft red welts where Wyatt’s lips had left their signature. Gauzy linen was a paltry barrier between the flat of his palm and the healer's shapely rear, a barrier he yearned to remove. 

Not yet - too early - the others were still lively and their quiet murmurs in the dark were just barely audible through the feeble shelter.

“Hawke-” 

His name was answered with a kiss. Well several really. One against the corner of a mouth that fought back a cunning smile and another grazed the scruff along a sharp jaw. Propped up against the tent support, he had pulled Anders into his lap and hands soon busied themselves plucking at the drawstrings of the man’s trousers while he continued to laud over his healer with possessive nibbles and kisses that marked him as well-loved.

That’s right. His. _ All  _ his.

“ _ Hawk _ -nngh” 

Two - no - three more frantic meetings of lips took place before the kisses became gentle but distracted pecks. It was a thumb pressing gingerly against an open mouth that silenced the protest before it could begin in earnest. Teeth lightly grazed the tip of said thumb, causing him to withdraw and chew on his lip as a form of self-restraint. “Keep that up and I won’t be able to stop myself...”

Anders scoffed and muttered something incoherent, but Wyatt pleasantly ignored his partner’s  _ stiffening _ frustration. He was far too distracted by the thrum of magic running under soft skin and by the way his own sang in silent reply. The cooling tingle of lyrium lingered on his lips, overpowering the bitter taste of herbs on his tongue as he stole more feverish kisses. 

Damnit. Three years of wanting had been too damn long...

Slender and far more nimble fingers twitched and dug deeper into his own back, skin protected only by a thin, rough tunic he itched to shed already. Wyatt squeezed his lover’s behind tighter in reaction. He heard Anders gasp before leaning in closer, nuzzling a blushing face into the crook of his neck. Narrow hips were flush with his own and the warmth shared between them guarded against the chill of the night air that seeped into their enclosure. As soon as he felt Anders’ mouth brush the top of his collarbones where the tunic dipped low enough, Wyatt shivered and quiet chuckles rolled out of his chest. Sliding up along Anders’ thigh was his free hand that stealthily crept below the hem of his breeches now that the laces were already loosened. He felt the heat pooling beneath his open palm and his partner stirred with need upon the sudden contact.

“Hawke, are you sure this is wise?” Anders mumbled against his chest, his voice strained with wanting that he struggled to hold in check.   
  
Finding any time alone was steadily becoming a challenge. Wyatt had already decided he was going to take full advantage of whatever they were given. If that meant here, in camp, so be it.

“It’s  _ fine _ -” his hand gripped gently at first which earned a louder and drawn out gasp. 

Thunder rolled overhead beginning with a profound crack that tapered off into heavy rumbling as a precursor for the  intensity. Rivulets streamed down all sides of the tents and continued its unrelenting bombardment for at least several minutes while they carried on without a missed beat. Actions blurred together in the moment, a blur that left both missing even more clothing once it had passed. More thunder clapped in short bursts and almost successfully drowned out the sound of short, sharp barks until they were too near to ignore any longer. 

Finn’s only warning to those within was a series of baying yelps as his bulk careened through the tent, all two-hundred and ninety-eight pounds of it. Shouts of protest failed to deter the imposing warhound from launching himself at his master, at  _ Wyatt _ who was more than a little indisposed while Anders and the tent were caught in the crossfire. A struggle commenced, one involving two grown men and a very large and very frightened mabari. Finn was in no mind to be wrangled and forcefully removed from the bedroll he had buried himself within and their efforts to do so were futile. When another rolling crack of thunder boomed overhead, the hound startled upwards blindly and sought another exit out of the tent, putting him right in the path of the supports.

Everything came down around their heads quicker than it had been set up.

The upheaval of tent, men and dog was enough to disrupt the rest of camp and draw their companions out of their own respective shelters into the heavy drizzle. Measured effort went into untangling themselves from the dilapidated sprawl that was the tent and their belongings. Both men finally emerged from the wreckage, their mortified faces a matching set. 

“Hawke? Blondie?” Varric called first as he emerged from a shared tent, followed by Aveline who crossed the campsite to approach them, dubious concern written all over her stern face. “What is going on?”

Wyatt scrambled to climb back into his tunic, somehow salvaged from the mess, while Anders simply stood back with his arms folded across his chest and sandy brows set low over narrowed eyes looking defeated.

“Well, you see-”

“You might as well tell them, Hawke.” Anders sounded less than enthusiastic about it. 

“No! I mean - not if you don’t want-”

“We’re not deaf, sweetheart. Deny it all you want, but I’m sure even the wolves heard all  _ that _ .” There was no point in arguing against Isabela’s point, so he offered his silence as forfeiture.

Effectively robbed of any defense now, he stole a glance across his shoulder for any indication of how to handle this awkward moment. His face was aflame, warm with embarrassment but a tiny sense of pride swelled up within his chest even as he stood there getting soaked with the continued rainfall. 

His mouth curled into a grin as Anders rolled his eyes and marched past him towards their collapsed tent. “Come on. Let’s just fix this mess and get out of the rain.” 

It was a collective effort between the two of them and Aveline to untangle the result of a frightened mabari and pitch the tent anew before the weather could get any worse. Before long, everything was set up, staked and supported once more. The tent was ready for the two mages to hide themselves in for the rest of the night. 

Not before drying off at least. As Anders continued to towel himself off in silence, Wyatt stared at his lover’s bare back with a quiet admiration. His eyes raked the length of the mage’s slender form and he sighed with absolute contentment. Scars, freckles and moles dotted the fair canvas of the man’s skin and teased a myriad of yet unknown stories.

“Maker, you’re beautiful,” he whispered listlessly. 

Anders paused and craned his neck to glance at him from over his shoulder. “What?” 

The misgivings in his voice was either genuine or a cheeky ploy to get Wyatt to repeat himself. Either way it worked. He unraveled himself from the nest of blankets and bedrolls to stand up and close the space between them. 

“I said you’re beautiful.”

Anders started to turn around and face him with a curious smile, but was stopped by hands on his waist. “Go on. I’m listening.”

They traveled up at first, tracing the arch of his partner’s back and gliding along the curve of a long neck. Wyatt followed the path his hands made with his eyes and grazed his lips along Anders’ neck and ear. He paused there while his fingers deftly plucked at the wrap that formed his lover’s ponytail, freeing the sunny blonde locks and letting them frame Anders’ angular face. 

“You’re beautiful, stunning, absolutely irresistible…” he fell silent and could hear a low chuckling. “And you’re eating this up aren’t you?” 

More chuckles filled the air as Anders leaned back and he could feel the distinct shape of his lover’s behind pressed up against him with rather clear intent. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to continue. After all, it’s not every day I get to hear an attractive man lavish me with compliments. Now, what else?” 

With a presumptuous smile, Wyatt began his descent, muttering more compliments while pressing kisses into Anders’ bare skin and making sure to take his trousers with him on the journey down. The rest of the world, including thoughts of what their companions might be able to hear, faded into obscurity while they were focused on nothing else but each other.


End file.
